My Grandmother and I exchanged a massive collection of correspondence, over a span of ten years. I have a habit of slipping notes into favorite books, so when I go back to read those books I find the memory, weeks or months or years later. The other day, a book fell off of the shelf and a note popped out onto the floor. It’s a post card I sent to my Grandma over thirteen years ago while I was staying in Paris. I love everything about it in this moment.
You are not born a woman; you become one.
– Simone de Beauvoir